


encore

by erzi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 05:51:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2258172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erzi/pseuds/erzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Excuse me but I heard you play and I thought it was really good,” Iwaizumi said in one breath, “I've never heard anything like that.”</p><p>The clarinetist blinked. “Of course it was good,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and rested his instrument on a stand so he could scribble something in his music.</p>
            </blockquote>





	encore

**Author's Note:**

> iwaoi week day 5: reincarnation

Iwaizumi Hajime was a very simple, straightforward person. He knew what he liked and what he didn't, he spoke his mind frankly, he didn't mind helping out a stranger in need. From the first day he had heard the brassy call of a trumpet, he had decided he wanted to learn how to play it, and as his experience and skill with it flourished, he realized that it was what he wanted to do with his life. During his last year of school, applying to a university with a strong music program was an obvious must. He was aware he wasn’t a prodigy but knew that, at the very least, he was good.

Upon his acceptance to his preferred school, his friends reported seeing Iwaizumi with a grin on his face for an entire week. In his utter happiness, he packed his items a long while before actually moving out, and anxiously crossed off the days in his calendar until he left for university. Time went by, the space between the current day and the expecting date circled in red steadily shrinking, until the very day he'd waited for since childhood arrived. He kissed his crying mother goodbye, hugged his father, and stepped out of his house into the future he had always wanted, that same grin back on his face.

* * *

Iwaizumi got briefly lost looking for the music building but was graciously helped out by another freshman. Kuroo Tetsurou was his name, and a short while after meeting him and feeling relief at his help, Iwaizumi decided the guy was actually fairly irksome. He couldn't stop smirking and carried a condescending air about him. At least he was nice, Iwaizumi supposed. Better to have one acquaintance than none.

“What do you play?” Kuroo asked as they walked, motioning with his head to the case Iwaizumi carried.

“Trumpet,” Iwaizumi answered, “I have been for twelve years.”

Kuroo's eyebrows went up. “Hmm, that's impressive. You must really love music, huh?”

“Obviously, otherwise I wouldn't want to dedicate my life to it.”

His smirk turned wider, if that was even possible. “Well, aren't you blunt.”

Iwaizumi frowned. “You asked a question, I answered.”

“You got me there.”

They continued to make idle chatter. Kuroo asked for Iwaizumi's reasons on seeing the building so early and on a Saturday no less, and he replied that he simply wanted to familiarize himself with the building and how to get there, maybe even practice a bit. Iwaizumi found out Kuroo was a biochemistry major and had a relative he was close to who worked at the school, which was why he knew the campus so well.

“Here we go. The music building," Kuroo said.

Iwaizumi glanced at it, heart thumping faster. "It's big."

"Well, the program's good and pretty popular. Lots of people come, some better than others, but I'm sure you don't fall into the latter group." He stuck his hand out. "Nice meeting you, Iwaizumi. Maybe I'll see you about again."

He shook it. "Maybe. Nice meeting you, too."

Kuroo left, leaving Iwaizumi alone in front of the looming building. He took a breath to calm himself, and went in.

It was quiet, which wasn't necessarily surprising, considering the time of day and lack of classes. He walked as if in a shrine, eyes drinking in the sight, feet quiet and slow. Suddenly, his ears picked up on the unmistakable faint, muffled sound of someone playing, and he quickly went to find the source. The playing got more defined, and Iwaizumi was able to pinpoint it as a clarinet. He didn't know much about woodwinds, but he had never heard a clarinet sound like that before. The sound was powerful yet delicate, the notes flowed so smoothly it was almost like the person playing didn't even need to breathe: their instrument simply spoke, from low, rumbling notes to the higher ones that seemed to simply float up. Chills traveled up his arms and he grew increasingly anxious, walking faster, eyes frantically searching each practice room he passed, wanting to see who was playing so beautifully.

He got to the room, the playing as clear as it could be through closed doors. He wiped his sweaty palms against his pants. Whoever this was had incredible talent, and being in their presence would be a bit unnerving. Iwaizumi waited for the person to stop playing so he wouldn't interrupt. The playing died out softly, the person holding out the last note in a decrescendo. He waited one more heartbeat, ensuring the person was done, and turned the doorknob.

“Excuse me but I heard you play and I thought it was really good,” Iwaizumi said in one breath, “I've never heard anything like that.”

The clarinetist blinked. “Of course it was good,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and rested his instrument on a stand so he could scribble something in his music.

His lack of modesty took Iwaizumi back a bit. He pursed his lips and nodded absently, unsure of how to respond. Pride was certainly necessary in music, but probably not the most polite thing to flaunt to a stranger.

“I'm Iwaizumi Hajime,” he said instead, “I'm a freshman. I play the trumpet. Nice to meet you.”

The other was shocked. “Do you not know who I am or something?” he asked, eyes wide with incredulity.

“What?” He frowned. “Why would I? I'm new here-”

“But I'm famous! I was on national television!” He had stood up and grabbed Iwaizumi by the shoulders. “How do you not know who I am?! Didn't they tell everyone that I was coming here?!”

Iwaizumi grabbed the other's hands and forcefully removed them form his shoulders, feeling very annoyed. “Look,” he said, “I don't know who you are, nor what your problem is with me not knowing, but I don't appreciate your attitude.”

“But I'm _famous_!” he said in a voice much too whiny for a college student. “I'm Oikawa Tooru! I was 13 when I was on TV and played a concerto with the Japan Philharmonic! Numerous newspapers have done articles on me! You can't just tell me you haven't _heard_ of me!”

“I'm telling you right now that I've never heard of you.”

The so-called Oikawa made another whiny noise and slunk back into his seat, defeated. “I can’t believe this,” he said, “I just can't. Do you live under a rock, Iwa... mizu?”

“Iwaizumi,” he corrected, eye twitching, “And I don't. You'll be surprised to find out, I'm sure, that even if you're good the world doesn't revolve around you.”

“Iwa-chan, I think you're lying. You do live under a rock, and the world does revolve around me.” He flashed a pretty smile.

Music was a competitive business full of conceited people, and Iwaizumi had thought he'd be prepared for it; he'd certainly be willing to work to earn his spot in whatever orchestra he auditioned for. But he had never expected to encounter anyone like this.

“You know what,” he said, “I'm going to go.” He made a move to turn around, but Oikawa grabbed him by the shoulder again.

“That's rude, you know! You can't just leave without telling me more of what you thought!” He grabbed his pencil again and twirled it. “What do I need to improve on? You said I was 'really good', which I am, don't get me wrong, but I can do better. Personally, I thought I could have made the notes more separated in measure 84, but I already wrote that. I need new insight.”

Iwaizumi stood there for a few seconds, trying to comprehend the request. “I don't... even play the clarinet,” he said slowly, lifting his trumpet case to prove his point, “And I heard you from far away and through the doors, it wasn't your actual sound.”

“But you heard _something_ , enough to tell me I was good. So, tell me what wasn't, Iwa-chan.”

“I don't know.”

He groaned loudly. “Now I'm gonna have to play the entire thing again! Listen carefully, okay?”

“You don't have to-”

Oikawa's clarinet was in his mouth and he started playing, the beginning being a very fast, elaborate show of technique. Despite Iwaizumi's limited knowledge on woodwinds, he was fully aware that said players had to be adept at moving their fingers and tongue quickly and efficiently. Oikawa's fingers were almost a blur, his sound effortless. Grumbling a bit, Iwaizumi moved closer, eyeing the music so he could find where Oikawa was at and then discern if he had played it as written. He had a lot of meticulous notes scribbled down and many different things color-coded: accidentals were a loud red, E flats green, B flats blue. For all his arrogance, he was _dedicated_.

Oikawa was playing along, Iwaizumi following the music. They reached a very slow passage that Oikawa almost sped through before Iwaizumi stopped him.

“You can't just race your way past that,” he scolded, “I understand this piece is about showing off you can, but not here. You need to go about fifteen beats slower there.”

Oikawa pouted. “But this piece _is_ about showing off that I can go fast.”

“It says _right there_ to slow down.”

“And it also says cadenza, which means I can play it as I see fit; that slowing down is just a suggestion! It ruins the beginning if I suddenly play like a turtle!”

Iwaizumi's patience was wearing thin. “I thought you wanted my opinion?!”

“Your opinion sucks!”

“Oh my god.” Iwaizumi knelt and zipped open his case, taking his trumpet out.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm going to show you that it's better to play it slow there. The contrast is on purpose.”

He blew a few warm-up notes first, swiftly working his way chromatically up, then doing a brief, improvised lip slur exercise: low note, high note, low note, high note. Oikawa sat in silence, watching him curiously, definitely judging his playing in his mind, and Iwaizumi found himself feeling more self-conscious, yet with a burning desire to show his worth.

“You should try it more like this,” he said, pressing his mouthpiece to his lips and carefully reading the music. He'd never seen it before and was frightened to mess up before someone who was incredibly talented, but at least Oikawa's notes and the slow tempo helped lessened the chance of a mistake. The notes were within his range, and it was not difficult to get his instrument to speak for him. Slower pieces were always his favorite, as he could show off the beauty of the trumpet, and he played like he had chosen this song himself.

Once he was done, he looked at Oikawa, expecting him to fully reject his advice and brag about how he could have done better.

“You played very pretty,” he said instead. He smiled.

“Oh,” Iwaizumi said. “Thanks.”

He stretched his arms. “Hm, I hate to say this, especially to a brass player, but you're right. It sounds better at your tempo.”

Iwaizumi bristled.

“Well, at least on the trumpet, I don't know about the clarinet,” Oikawa continued, “I'll think about changing it. You should be glad I'm even considering that.”

“You're something else, aren't you.”

Oikawa smiled again. “No need to be so mean, Iwa-chan. I have a feeling we're going to be very good friends!”

“You know what, there's something I definitely forgot to do,” Iwaizumi said, kneeling back down to pack up his instrument, “Yup. So, I'm going to get going.”

“Aw. It was nice to hear you play. See you in class, I guess! I look forward to you being my musical backup, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi stood back up and grinned. “That's if anyone can actually hear you.”

“What!”

“Catch you later, Oikawa.”

He opened he door and left, a dozen thoughts on being in an ensemble with someone as good yet as haughty as Oikawa buzzing about his head. The musical possibilities, the opportunity to echo Oikawa's part in his own instrument, alike in style yet so different in sound, sent an excited chill up his spine. This would be an interesting year.

 

**Author's Note:**

> there's a specific reason behind their instruments. despite being v diff in instrument families and thus sounds, clarinets and trumpets are written in the same key. that means, like in here, that a trumpet could pick up clarinet music, play it, and the notes would correspond to those of a clarinet's. however, most other instruments aren't written in this key, such as the flute; if a flutist were to read clarinet music, it would slightly sound off bc their notes don't correspond to the clarinet's. trumpets and clarinets also have the melody and/or similar parts most of the time, supporting each other musically. so despite how unalike they may seem, both instruments have more in common than one might think, and it's these musical dynamics that i think fit iwaizumi and oikawa's relationship.


End file.
